


The Weight of Things

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-29
Updated: 2008-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's been a while since I wrote anything for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/slash_me_twice/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/slash_me_twice/"><b>slash_me_twice</b></a>, but I needed some prompt inspiration and I've swung back around into a Dominic-y mood, so I think I'll come back to this.  Just some wordy porn, folks.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Weight of Things

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote anything for [](http://community.livejournal.com/slash_me_twice/profile)[**slash_me_twice**](http://community.livejournal.com/slash_me_twice/), but I needed some prompt inspiration and I've swung back around into a Dominic-y mood, so I think I'll come back to this. Just some wordy porn, folks.

The old fashioned mirror is a starkly elongated oval, so narrow in fact that Viggo's elbows don't fit in the reflection as Dom watches Viggo's arms encircle him, sight and touch disjointed. This was Dom's fantasy, so he keeps his eyes on the mirror, watches Viggo's tanned and muscled forearms, dusted with pale hair, form a vee pointing at the buckle of Dom's worn leather belt. He watches Viggo's strong, never entirely clean, cracked and worn hands work the buckle open and slowly slide the belt from its loops. He hears the sound of the metal as it hits the rough wood floor, the discoloured boards never designed to be exposed but Viggo is unpredictable that way. He watches in the mirror's glass surface, marred with imperfections and dirty in places, as Viggo gently guides his cock out, weighing it in the space between forefinger and thumb. He watches Viggo's hair fall in his eyes as he presses his lips to Dom's neck, and feels as a completely separate sensation the warm soft touch of lips and wet living tongue, hears the faint smacking sound. He wants to roll his head back on Viggo's shoulder and close his eyes and sigh and give in, but this was Dom's fantasy.

He watches in the mirror, a slender antique oval tilted up slightly on its brassy stand, as Viggo begins to massage his cock, begins to feel and stroke it. The ornate frame, its colour once brilliant but now approaching a dull almost-brown, describes an improbable fragment of Dom's worldview, brings out and distorts this quick fascination, this heady obsession. Viggo's eyes lift to meet Dom's in the mirror as Dom looks away from his cock in Viggo's hand, as he matches the sensations in his groin to Viggo's intense stare, as if it is Viggo's look and Viggo's intensity that is rubbing his sensitive skin, drawing the blood methodically to the surface. His cock is completely rigid in Viggo's hand now, and he shifts slightly, widening his stance. He feels calm and centred, grounded, and he likes the way the mirror accentuates the difference in their heights, how the position displays him as a slightly smaller figure superimposed onto Viggo's body. Viggo frames him as the mirror frames Viggo, but if the mirror cuts off small parts of Viggo's image – his elbows, his feet, his chest and stomach and cock that Dom's own body obscures – Viggo allows Dominic to remain whole. He has his own imperfections, his own flaws, but they are not mysterious. He is here. He rests in the palm of Viggo's hand and he is comfortable there, figuratively and literally. He turns his head to the side and leaves the fantasy of the mirror behind, forcing the reality of Viggo's lips, penetrating the gauze of smoke and mirrors that separates them. Dom takes a risk and as he spills over Viggo's hand, onto Viggo's jeans, his hand on the back of Viggo's neck and all that Viggo brings to the table in full view, in stark and unsettling close-up, he is satisfied.


End file.
